“Is this your granddaughter, Mr. Wood?”
“She’s me woif, she is, Y’r ‘ighness.”
“Oh, how unseemly.”
Psychedelia was not kind to Charlie Watts, at least not sartorially. Don’t make Charlie Watts wear a caftan with magical sigils all over it. Let Charlie wear his hand-tailored suits.
This was ’67. My high school band, A Bunch Of Guys From France, had more equipment than this; it’s downright adorable. Plus, those are pussy-ass Vox amps and they’re underpowered. No one in that auditorium heard a damned thing.
Let’s see what a real band’s backline looked like in ’67:
Oh, just as rinky-dink? Forget I said anything.
https://www.georgecleverley.com/about/
where Charlie gets his shoes apparently. you can visit his lasts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXASUMDEvlQ
“he’s only an 8, but actually a nice foot for making shoes because they come out slim”